Needles, Knives, Storms and Blood
by Sydella
Summary: The bloody history of Prince the Ripper's family is not for the faint-hearted. [Slight Squalo x Bel]


"Your Majesty, I am delighted to inform you that you are pregnant." The royal doctor smiled. "With twins, no less."

The beautiful young queen was ecstatic. Her long blonde curls tumbled down her slender back as she turned to her husband. "Isn't this wonderful, darling? Soon we will be a family of four!"

The king smiled back, but his smile did not reach his eyes. "Of course, my love. I can hardly wait."

His chief advisor entered the room and whispered something in his ear. Frowning, he stood and rubbed his queen's back solicitously. "I will return as soon as I can. In the meantime, pray proceed with the medical examination."

The royal doctor dutifully complied. When he had finished, he glanced at the queen's pale, troubled face. "Is something wrong, Your Majesty?"

She blinked, emerging from her reverie, and shook her head. "Oh, nothing is wrong. It's just that I am a little worried. After all, this is the first time I will be a mother."

"You have nothing to worry about. Rest assured that you are in good hands, Your Majesty." The royal doctor collected his few possessions, bowed and left.

As the doors closed behind him with a snap, the kind smile vanished from his face, replaced with a worried frown of his own.

"Twins, huh," he murmured to himself. "If this turns out well, my name isn't Shamal."

X

Queen Rosetta had been born the daughter of a tyrannical emperor. Her father was quick to make enemies and lose friends. As a result, at the tender age of thirteen, she found herself betrothed to a much older man whom she barely knew. They married five years later, sealing a political alliance and ensuring her father's safety from his enemies. Not once did her father thank her for her sacrifice-he was too busy trying to make Rosetta's stepsister his newest concubine.

Her pregnancy commenced barely a month later. The kingdom was abuzz with the news that she was expecting twins. Amidst the usual speculations about their gender, some of the citizens were less optimistic.

"Twins? That's a bad omen," a fortune teller said grimly as she peered into a crystal ball. "Dark times are ahead. The competition for the next successor to the throne will tear this kingdom apart, I'm telling you."

"Hush," another fortune teller replied nervously, casting her gaze around surreptitiously. "The walls have ears. It is better to let the people hope for the best."

Unbeknownst to the fortune tellers, a heavily disguised Queen Rosetta was listening to their every word. Not because she wanted to catch them red-handed in an act of treason, as she knew her husband would do, but because she did believe in such predictions of the future. Her heart sank and she returned to the castle in a seething mass of emotions. In the boudoir she shared with her husband, she undressed and stood in front of a mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, all melancholy and longing. The swell of her belly could not begin to ease the ache of her heart.

The door to the boudoir banged open and she turned, startled.

"My apologies. I did not wish to frighten you." As always, the stranger standing opposite her-her husband-spoke stiffly and formally. For a moment, they stared at each other. Then, with slow and deliberate movements, as if he was approaching a wounded animal, he closed the distance between them and pulled her down onto their marriage bed.

Hours later, as he dozed beside her, she felt one, or perhaps both, of her children kick deep within her. For a terrible, irrational moment, she wondered what would happen if she took the nearest sharp object she could find and…well…

But no. She could not bring herself to do it. It would be unfair to the king and the kingdom. Most importantly, it would be unfair to her children. _My babies. _Her childhood had been taken from her by her father. How could she inflict the same crime on her own offspring?

Choking back a sob, she caressed her swollen belly and wondered if the gods would be merciful enough to kill her during childbirth.

X

"You have two beautiful sons," the king's chief advisor informed him, beaming.

The king said nothing. He remained seated on his throne, staring straight ahead.

"Your Highness?" the advisor prompted, unctuous smile slowly disappearing. "Do you not wish to see your sons?"

With a slight upturn of his thin lips, and without turning to look at the other man, the king reached out and slapped the advisor, who fell to the floor with a gasp of pain.

"I will see them," the king intoned, a murderous glint in his eyes as he continued to stare at nothing, "when I want to. The time for that may never come, for all I care. I sired them and they would do well to take heed of that. No one will steal her from me. Not even my own…my…I mean those two pieces of _filth_."

"A-as you wish, Your Highness." Clutching his left cheek, on which was imprinted an angry red handprint, the advisor scrambled to his feet and kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to look at his enraged king.

X

"Mama! Mama!" the twins, now two years of age, wailed in unison.

"I'm here, my lovelies." Queen Rosetta rushed to soothe them. They attached themselves to her sides, Belphegor on the left, Rasiel on the right.

"Mama, Siel took my teddy bear!"

"Nuh-uh! Belphegor's just careless!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"AM N-"

"All right, you two. Please settle down and behave yourselves." Despite her exasperation, Queen Rosetta couldn't help but feel fond and proud of her twin hellions. She should never have toyed with the notion of taking life away from them. They were her pride and joy.

There was still one small problem, though. The king.

"Looks like you're having fun," a familiar male voice said from behind her.

_Speak of the devil. _She slowly turned around and there he was, her husband. His crown was a little lopsided and he was scowling.

"What's the matter, darling?" she asked cautiously.

Instead of answering, he stormed towards her. Alarmed, she shrank back. To her surprise and relief, after glaring at her for a moment, he pulled her closer and gently hugged her.

"I thought you were gone," he said hoarsely.

"What are you talking about?" Tenderly, she adjusted his crown and gazed into his bloodshot eyes. "I've been here all day, taking care of our sons."

Abruptly, his expression darkened and he released her. Bewildered, she could only watch as he told their sons to follow him, and walked away briskly with them trailing after him.

"Where are you going?" she called out anxiously.

The king did not turn around. "Just somewhere nearby," he replied evasively.

When night fell, Belphegor and Rasiel returned and sought her out. She was reading in her boudoir when she heard a soft knock on her door. Upon opening it, she was greeted by the sight of her beloved sons-albeit much more bloodied, battered and bruised than usual.

"What happened?" she exclaimed in dismay, ushering them in and closing the door.

"Our father says that you are to treat our injuries and make sure that our bruises aren't visible at our next public appearance," Rasiel muttered.

"He has also arranged for us to officially begin attending classes, so we will have less time to be with you," Belphegor added. Both boys sounded as if they were reciting something from memory and for once, they seemed to be of one mind.

Queen Rosetta stared at her sons. Both stood as still as statues, their heads bowed and blonde bangs covering their eyes. She wanted to press them for an explanation, but seconds later, they started crying and she was soon preoccupied with calming them down. When she had tucked them into bed and turned out the lights, she set off to look for her husband with grim determination.

X

"What did you _do _to them, Matthias?!" his queen was shouting at him.

The king pinched the bridge of his nose. He had never heard Rosetta address him by his given name before. Something was changing in the dynamics of their relationship, he knew. And he didn't like it one bit. "I did nothing to hurt them, wife. Do you have so little faith in me that you believe I would hurt my own sons?"

"Well, but how do you explain their bruises?" she demanded.

"I took them horse-riding, all right?" he retorted. "They have yet to master our royal horses, who did not take kindly to having two new riders and kept throwing them off."

Rosetta looked intently at him. "Is that the truth, Matthias? Pray do not lie to me. I despise liars."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she whirled around and stormed out, like a stricken blonde goddess of rage. Once she was out of sight, he took an unopened bottle of wine from his desk and hurled it at a wall. The bottle shattered into dozens of pieces. Blood-red rivulets of wine formed small rivers around his feet, and in the fragments of glass, he found his reflection repeated and broken a hundred times over.

X

The twins were exactly five years of age when their Storm Flames first manifested. At the time, the flames were no brighter than the candles on the twins' birthday cake. Nevertheless, all their assorted relatives and servants gasped and applauded as if it was the greatest spectacle ever witnessed by humankind. Rasiel grinned from ear to ear as he produced tiny fireballs and agreeably posed for photograph after photograph. Meanwhile, Belphegor sulked and climbed into his mother's lap.

"What's wrong, Bel?" Queen Rosetta asked, stroking the mop of blonde hair that was so like her own.

"Everyone's always talking about Siel," he whined. "Siel this, Siel that. Don't I deserve some attention too? I'm always second best."

She cuddled him. "Not to me, you aren't."

"Really?" He smiled, a little reluctantly.

"Of course." She kissed the top of his head. "Now, would you like to hear a story?"

"What kind of story?"

"Well, it's about a prince and a frog."

"Am I the prince?"

"What a silly question, dear. Of course you are…"

King Matthias observed this heart-warming mother-son interaction with a forced smile plastered on his face. If anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen that his hands were clenched into fists. As if sensing his father's rage, Rasiel moved further away and sent the king a wary glance every few minutes or so.

It was the calm before the storm, really. No one could have predicted what was to happen next.

X

A knife. A small tool that can be used in kitchens. Silver, gleaming and cruel.

One warm, idyllic day in his fairy tale kingdom, King Matthias crept into Rasiel's boudoir and, with a cursory glance at his sleeping elder son, took a knife from Rasiel's stash of bladed weapons in a chest of drawers. Without a moment's hesitation, the king plunged the knife into his own heart. He was dead within seconds. Rasiel woke to find his boudoir filled with the coppery smell of blood and his father's corpse lying inches away from his bed. The deceased man's face seemed to leer at him, the lips stretched in a caricature of a smile as rigor mortis set in.

_Do you see now, my son? Do you finally understand what it means to be a king, you wife-stealing piece of filth? _

X

"I'm not supposed to say this, but there are rumours that Rasiel-sama killed the king," The royal family's long-time butler, Olgert, said grimly. "After all, Rasiel-sama and the king were the only ones in the room at the time. No one else was there. No one else could have committed the crime. Of course, that's just what the tabloids are saying. Rasiel-sama could never have done it. Naturally."

"Naturally," Dr Shamal echoed, the slightest trace of irony in his voice. "I take it that the coroner has confirmed the king's death as a case of suicide, then?"

"Indeed." Olgert lit a cigarette with trembling hands and exhaled slowly. He stole a glance at the royal doctor. "You'll be leaving soon, right? On account of the whole 'flirting with 2082 women simultaneously' thing?"

Dr Shamal groaned and passed a hand over his eyes. "Ugh. Don't remind me. How was I to know that Her Majesty would find out about that?"

"It's called not being an idiot." Olgert rolled his eyes. "So, where do you plan to go?"

"The Mafia."

The cigarette dropped from Olgert's mouth. "What?!"

"Oh, Olgert. Don't you know that the Mafia spares absolutely no one?" Dr Shamal smiled faintly and began to walk away. "I'll be in touch."

X

After King Matthias's death, Queen Rosetta withdrew from the world and left the administration of the kingdom to a highly competent council of advisors personally appointed by her. She did accept visits from her sons, but the vibrancy was gone from her eyes. Rasiel and Belphegor both plied her with gifts and tried to lure her out of her boudoir, but she was unresponsive. Eventually, they gave up and turned their attention to their growing rivalry.

X

"I'm dead," Rasiel moaned. "Just leave me be, Olgert. My godforsaken brother has taken everything from me."

"Don't say that, Rasiel-sama! You are the next true king. You mustn't give up!" Olgert desperately tried to disinfect an enormous wound in Rasiel's side, but to no avail. Blood pooled around Rasiel, and flies were already starting to gather.

"Shut up, Olgert." To the loyal butler's horror, Rasiel's eyes began to close. "Stupid Belphegor has killed me. I don't have a chance in hell of making it out of here alive."

"Well, now," an unfamiliar male voice suddenly cut in. "I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you."

Olgert leapt to his feet, ready to defend his chosen master. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

A tall, lanky white-haired man stepped out of a nearby copse of trees. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Byakuran." He smiled coldly. "I'm your worst nightmare. But I'm also your last remaining hope of salvation."

X

At the same time, another tall, lanky white-haired man, albeit one with a considerably more bad-tempered disposition, was interrogating the other twin.

"Date of birth?"

"December 22," Belphegor mumbled.

"Blood type?"

"AB." Belphegor idly kicked a pebble. "By the way, you haven't told me your name."

"Superbi Squalo. Just Squalo will do."

"Okie-dokie." Belphegor suddenly felt cheerful. The sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant blue and he had finally killed his brother. _Who's the superior one now? _

"Is there anything you'd like to do before we leave?" Squalo asked, tapping out a message on a mobile phone. Belphegor saw the older male write the first three letters of a word, or perhaps a name: XAN. Xan who? Belphegor was eager to find out.

"Like what?" Belphegor gazed at the castle that was once his home. "There isn't anyone I want to say goodbye to. Well, I mean…there's my mother, but I'm not sure if she even remembers me anymore."

"Your mother?" Squalo glanced up from his mobile phone. "You mean Queen Rosetta?"

Belphegor stared at him, surprised. "Do you know her?"

Squalo rolled his eyes. "Well, I do watch the news, you know."

"Oh." Belphegor stuffed his hands into his pockets. He suddenly felt an urge to laugh. "Ushishishi."

"What's so funny?!"

"Nothing. Relax." Belphegor smirked at the older male, who looked ready to throw his mobile phone at the prince. If Squalo was always this easy to rile, Belphegor had a feeling that the next several years were going to be very enjoyable indeed.

Scowling, Squalo finished typing out his message, hit SEND, and ran a hand through his long, silky white hair. "Let's go."

"Let's," Belphegor agreed. The two males made a beeline for a long black car with tinted windows. As they got in, Belphegor looked around and whistled. "Sweet ride."

"Of course. Only the best for the Varia." Squalo put on a pair of sunglasses, somehow managing to make even this simple gesture look like something straight out of an old gangster movie. Belphegor tried very hard not to look impressed, but judging from the amused glance Squalo gave him, his attempt was not successful.

"It's going to be a long trip," Squalo mused out loud, talking more to himself than to Belphegor. "I suppose if we take some illegal shortcuts, we could halve the duration of this journey, but border patrol's very strict these days and we have to keep a low profile…"

Belphegor tuned Squalo out and glanced back at the castle as the car gained speed. _Goodbye, _he thought. The image of his twin's corpse flashed through his mind and he knew he would never grieve Rasiel's death for as long as he lived. The bastard would probably find a way to come back and haunt him anyway.

The car rolled out onto a highway and Belphegor settled comfortably into his seat. He did not look back again.

X

Queen Rosetta had lost her husband and both of her sons, but a good queen always knows how to keep herself busy. In her last days, she learned needlework. She rather admired the beauty of the little silver things. Like knives, only less dangerous.

When she heard that one of her sons had killed the other, she did not scream or panic or collapse in a fit of grief. Instead, she simply laid down her needlework (she had been working on a red afghan quilt all night) and walked out of her boudoir, past the servants who stared at her in consternation, past the portrait of her deceased husband, past everyone and everything in the home she once cared for, and calmly stepped out into the night. The faintest touch of colour could be seen on the horizon, and as she walked away, she became nothing more than a silhouette against the backdrop of a new day's destruction and rebirth.

_Needles, knives, storms and blood._

She was never seen or heard from again. And the kingdom, as a wise fortune teller had predicted all those years ago, was torn apart. It was soon conquered and absorbed by an empire-the very same empire Rosetta's father had once struggled to save.

Life, as it always does, comes full circle.


End file.
